Shatter Me
by RainsAngel
Summary: After barely surviving the abuse of her brother in Amity, all Harmony knows is that she has to get out. But when her test results are not normal, where should she go? Harmony chooses to be brave, knowing she has nothing to lose.
1. Chapter 2- Aptitude

2- Aptitude

We're picking apples in the orchard after a food-less lunch, and I'm grateful for the others around us. A mid-afternoon breeze blows my hair off my back. Ashton is on the ground sorting the apples into baskets while I climb to the higher branches. I grit my teeth, knowing that he's looking up my skirt. The basket at the base of the trunk fills quickly as I yank apples off the tree as fast as possible. I don't want to be up here any longer than necessary, but do pause to quickly eat an apple once I'm high in the tangle of branches. It isn't much, but any sustenance will do.

My bare feet touch the ground lightly as I jump out of the tree, which appears to be clear of apples. Ashton reaches over and pulls a leaf out of my hair, making me flinch, before resting his hands on my shoulders. His eyes seem to light up at my discomfort.

"Harmony Chase?" a voice calls my name. Ashton and I both turn to look. A tall man dressed in a pair of jeans and a maroon shirt steps towards us. "It's time for your test." Ashton digs his fingers into my arm.

"Good luck, baby sister," he releases me, smiling sweetly, but I can feel the malice behind his voice. I follow the man from the orchard towards the compound, and the aptitude test.

I settle into the cold metal chair, watching the man, who provided David as his name, type something into a computer and then prepare a syringe. The liquid in the tube looks like the peace serum they give us, but instead of olive green, it is pale blue. I take a deep breath as David wipes my neck with a cold alcohol wipe.

"This might sting a little. Do you want me to count to three?" David holds the syringe next to my neck. I shake my head. He slips the needle into my neck, but the pain is almost nothing. "The serum should take effect in about a minute. Good luck." He returns to stand behind the computer, clicking a few buttons. I stare straight ahead at the wall, counting down the seconds. 3, 2, 1…darkness.

 _I stand in the middle of a peach grove. In front of me is a long table, covered with a table cloth and ready to be set for dinner. A man steps out from behind a tree, and heads towards the table, picking up a bundle of forks and placing one at each place._

 _"_ _You can sit. Dinner is almost ready," he says._

 _"_ _Let me help you," I step towards the table, picking up the pile of plates, and distributing them. The man with the forks smiles at me, then disappears, along with everything on the table except for a long, sharp knife and a hunk of raw meat. I shrink away from both options. I've never eaten meat before, and the knife looked like a weapon, not an eating utensil._

 _"_ _Choose," a voice that isn't quite male or female calls. My eyes look around for the source of the voice._

 _"_ _Why?" I turn in a circle, still searching for the voice. "What do I have to do?"_

 _"_ _Too late," the voice taunts, and the table disappears, along with the knife and the meat. A man appears in front of me, holding a knife much like the one that was on the table. He points it at me, before lifting up a picture of a familiar looking boy._

 _"_ _Do you know him?" he shakes the flyer in my face, touching the cold point of the knife to my forehead._

 _"_ _He looks familiar," my eyebrows knit together. The knife at my head is vaguely concerning, but even if he stabs me, it's just a simulation. I won't die, or even be hurt, in real life._

 _"_ _He killed my family…" the man's mad look softens into sadness for a second, "I guess I'll have to kill you as retribution."_

 _"_ _Violence isn't the answer," my Amity responds. I take his hand to pull it away from my forehead, but it won't budge._

 _"_ _It's the only way." I sigh. I can't convince the sim- it has no reason._

 _"_ _Fine," I look into the man's eyes, challenging him. "Do it."_

I return to the chair in the aptitude test room with a start. David is typing furiously at the monitor; his face is as red as his shirt. I look at him expectantly.

"You're lucky you got me to administrate, not someone else," he finally turns to me. I cock my head at him, confused. "You are, like, completely divergent. The test is supposed to knock out one faction at a time- you helped set the table, indicating Abnegation. You wanted to know why you had to choose, indicating Erudite. You didn't lie about the boy on the poster, indicating Candor. And you told the man violence wasn't the answer, showing Amity. Then you just let him kill you, showing Dauntless in that you weren't afraid of him. You didn't eliminate any of the factions." David rubs his head across his forehead. "I've never seen this before." I'm speechless. Being divergent is…dangerous, to say the least. If anyone finds out, especially given how strong my divergence is, I'll either be dead or in the Erudite labs almost instantaneously.

"What do I do?" I stare at David, a hard determination in my eyes.

"I run an algorithm simultaneously with the aptitude test, so if there is divergence, it will just take the last faction that you fit in as your aptitude. I tried to program it to choose the faction that the tested showed the most aptitude for, but it was too complicated, so the aptitude test was able to pick up that something was messing with it. The order of the events in the test varies in everyone's test, so what faction they get isn't always the same. The last faction you were tested on was Dauntless, which you qualified for. It'll be strange for an Amity to go to Dauntless, but since that is what your test result shows up as, it would be even worse for you not to go."

"So I have to go to Dauntless?"

"Basically. You could stay in Amity if you wanted, many people stay in their home factions despite their test results," he powers the computer down, "but it would still be kind of suspicious since Dauntless and Amity are practically opposites."

"Thank you," I stand up from the chair.

"Of course. You know not to tell anyone, even your brother. The safest route for you is to choose Dauntless, but if you feel like you really belong somewhere else, just make sure you have a good reason before you choose." I nod.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Harmony."


	2. Chapter 3- Fracture

I step into the house, closing the door silently behind me. Hopefully, Ashton isn't home or didn't hear me come in. I don't want to deal with him right now. Or ever. I stand silently in the front hall for a second, listening for movement. Nothing. With a slight smile at the realization that I'm alone, I head up to my room.

My room is brightly lit by the sunlight that streams through the large window on the back wall. The room itself is relatively small, big enough to fit a bed, a desk, and my vanity, but not much else. I lean against my desk, which stands in front of the wide window, and stare out over the woods that surround Amity. Amity. I don't mind the work, I actually sometimes enjoy it when I'm not with Ashton. And I value the happiness and love that Amity stands for. But I know I can't stay, not with Ashton here. If I don't leave on choosing day, I'll never escape him.

I don't know where to go. The test told me that I fit everywhere, but I can't go everywhere. I have to make myself fit in only one place, and fit in well. If anyone discovers my divergence, and just how divergent I am, I know I'm done. I didn't need David to tell me that.

But I don't find any of the factions' lives to be of any particular appeal. I like to learn, but spending my whole life doing that doesn't sound fun. It sounds constricting. The manipulative nature of many Erudite would clash with my Candor. So not Erudite. Although I value honesty, the bluntness of Candor would be hard to handle with my Amity side. No Candor. Abnegation would probably be a safe choice, but it would be too contrary to the Dauntless result. And it, like Erudite, would probably be very constricting to my divergent personality. So no Abnegation.

Dauntless. It is probably the freest of the factions, allowing rage and happiness to dwell in its halls, but it's brutal. It wouldn't meld well with my Amity. Their initiation now includes cuts, so if I went there I could end up factionless. But my only other choice is to stay in Amity, which, I realize as my stomach growls in protest, could quite possibly kill me. Factionless is better than dead and abused. Dauntless it is. What have I to lose?

The door slams downstairs, and I jump with a start. I've been compiling everything I know about Dauntless and it's initiation process in my head in an attempt to prepare myself. How very Erudite of me. The sun is starting to set, telling me that dinner should be soon. I sigh, and start downstairs. Ashton will be upset if I don't greet him, and given the door slam, he's already angry. He really doesn't belong in Amity. I wonder if he chose to stay for me. And if he did, if his intentions were noble at the time. Maybe he hurts me because he resents me for trapping him here. But he could have left; I didn't ask him to stay.

Slowly, I walk into the living room, where Ashton is splayed on the couch, a beer already in his hand. Whatever is bothering him must be bad if he's drinking before dinner. I perch tentatively on the edge of the green chair next to the couch, and he looks over at me, but stays silent. I look at the ground, uncomfortable under his stare.

"How was your test, baby sister?" he drawls, his words slightly slurred. He must have been drinking before he even got home. I gulp.

"It went well." I have to be careful with my words; he is unpredictable when he's intoxicated.

"What was your result?" he takes a swig from his bottle.

"Amity, of course," I smile at him. Technically, it isn't a lie. He sits up, leaning against the back of the couch, and grunts.

"Good. I get to keep you." I shudder, and for some reason rage fills me instead of fear. I am _not_ a thing to just be kept or possessed. I lift my chin, and clench my jaw to stop myself from saying anything. Unlike my brother, I can keep my anger in check. "Come here, baby sister." I don't move and glare at him, but in the fading light I doubt he can see. A minute passes. "I told you to come here," he growls, the slur from the drink gone from his voice. My anger starts to be replaced by fear, but I refuse to give in. I will not be afraid. After all, I'm Dauntless. "Now, baby sister."

"No." The word flies out of my mouth before I can stop myself, but there's no going back now. Ashton's bottle falls to the ground and shatters.

"What did you say?" he stands up from the couch slowly. My jaw starts to shake and I'm rooted to the chair. I try to summon the anger back to banish the fear, but I can't. Ashton starts towards me, each step deliberately placed in a straight line, making me question if he's actually drunk. "Did you just try to defy me?" he leans forward, his face only inches from mine.

"I-I didn't-" my words are cut off by Ashton's hand flying across my face. I clutch my stinging cheek, but don't move my head.

"Shut up!" he hits me again, and tears come unwilled to my eyes. "I'm in charge of you. I _own_ you, baby sister. I expect obedience," he pulls me up from the chair and grasps my hips, hard. I chew on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying out. He likes it when I scream. The dinner bell rings in the distance, and hope fills me. Ashton shoves me away from him. "I'm not finished with you," he shoves a finger in my face, "Clean this mess up," he gestures at his broken bottle, before turning to storm out of the house. I brush myself off, as if I can remove the feel of his hands, then run upstairs to cover the bruises already forming on my face before following his orders and then him.

The dining hall is loud with laughter and conversations that I will never join, and I can't help but revel in the fact that this is my last dinner here. I spot Ashton sitting with some other men his age a couple tables from the door, and am filled with hope. He might call me over, but I also might get to eat without him. Friends are another thing my brother doesn't let me have, so I'll be alone, but I might get food. I start towards the buffet of food, a smile almost forming on my face.

"Harmony!" My heart sinks, and I turn towards my brother. He waves me over with his signature Amity smile. It makes me sick. I reluctantly walk over to him, but not before grabbing a banana off the fruit table. He can't tell me not to eat in front of his friends, and he's already angry with me. It can't get much worse. His eyes narrow when he spots the fruit in my hands, but his smile doesn't fade.

I force a smile onto my own face as he pulls me down next to him at the table. His friends wave at me, completely unaware of how Ashton is gripping my thigh under the table. His nails dig into my leg, and I'm barely able to keep the smile on my face.

"How have you been?" one of his friends, Derek I believe, asks me. I've sat with Ashton and his friends before, but I don't know them very well.

"Well, you?" I try to keep the termer out of my voice as Ashton drags his fingers higher up my leg.

"Good," Derek nods at me, and takes a bite of his bean burrito. I look away, jealous, and start peeling my banana, hoping no one else will talk to me. I don't know if I'll be able to speak with Ashton's fingers dancing up and down my leg.

"That's all you're eating?" the other man at the table asks. I think his name is Marvin, but I'm not sure.

"She's been a little under the weather lately, and it has been affecting her appetite," Ashton answers before I can even open my mouth to respond. Marvin looks at me, and I nod reluctantly. Ashton gives my leg a final squeeze before removing his hand so he can eat his own dinner. I sigh in relief and my brother raises an eyebrow at me. I look away. It's difficult to eat the banana slowly given the empty pit that is my stomach, but I don't want to look like a starved child. It would only anger Ashton further, which is something I definitely don't need.

My heart is beating fast before we even reach home. Ashton had quickly finished his dinner, and then excused us on account of my pretended sickness. He yanks on my arm, pulling me into the house. The door slams behind us. I take a deep breath as Ashton grabs my waist, his nails digging into my skin. He doesn't say anything, just slams me against the wall. I turn my head so I don't have to look at him, but he grabs my chin and forces me to face him. His tongue travels down my chin all the way to my collarbone, where he bites at my skin. My eyes widen and I clench the side of my mouth in my teeth, hoping to stop a cry from breaching my lips. It always encourages him when I make noise.

Ashton's fingers drift up my sides as his tongue slips lower, licking the edge of my dress. I try to push him away, but he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. His mouth slams onto mine, and he jams his tongue between my unwilling lips. I cough, struggling against his hold. He pushes his tongue further into my mouth. I stop struggling, and squeeze my eyes tight. It's no use. I give in and let him do as he pleases, trying to pretend I'm somewhere else.


	3. Chapter 4- Release

4- Release

I sit against the wall, shivering in only my dark blue bra and underwear. My dress lays on the floor to my right. Ashton was on me until around midnight when he finally left me and went to bed, apparently satisfied. It was the farthest he'd ever gone, and I haven't been able to move for the past hour. I don't want to look at the blood dripping down my thighs or the marks on my neck or the bruises on my hips. I just want it all to go away.

A spark of hope flares in me when I realize that after I choose Dauntless today, it will all go away. This little hope helps me get to my feet, but I still wince as a trickle of blood reaches down towards my knee. I leave the dress on the floor and stumble upstairs to the shower.

The bus is crammed with all of the Amity families that are heading to the choosing ceremony. Only one bus comes outside of the fence to get Amity, so it's always packed. Ashton pulled me up onto his lap to give someone else my seat, and I'm _not_ happy about it. I tried to ask him to let me stand in the isle, but he wouldn't let me speak. Physical signs of affection are not uncommon in Amity, so no one gives our position a second glance. I wish they would.

After what seems like an eternity, the bus pulls to a stop in front of the Hub. I jump off of Ashton's lap, relieved. I follow the rest of the Amity, pulling at the short skirt of my dress. It's has a high neck to hide the marks Ashton left on my body, and it's a red that's a little dark for Amity. If it was a shade darker, it could be Dauntless.

I recognize the other dependents choosing today from school and the fields, but none of them acknowledge my presence. We are seated alphabetically around the room, with no regard to faction, so I don't have to sit by any of them anyway. I'm seated between an Erudite and a Candor. Neither of them speaks to me, but the Candor throws me a soft smile. I return it best I can, and focus on the stage. Abnegation is hosting this year, and Marcus Eaton starts the speech. I zone out, staring at the mass of Dauntless seated on the right side of the room. They don't stop talking even as Marcus speaks, and they're always moving. An excited energy radiates from their section.

I snap to attention when they start calling names. They're going in reverse alphabetical order, so I'll be towards the end. The first girl chooses to stay in Candor. I watch the others choose before me with a growing anxiety, not really registering their choices. I almost jump when the Erudite sitting next to me stands up and walks onto the stage. He chooses to stay in his faction.

"Harmony Chase," Marcus's voice summons me to the platform. I can feel Ashton's eyes on me as I walk up the three steps onto the sleek black stage. The thought of him fills me with anger and a passion for escape, banishing my fear. I stop in front of the bowls and pick up the knife with a calm determination. Blood wells up in my palm as I swipe the knife across my palm, cutting a little too deep. It isn't hard to keep the pain from my face; I've had a lot of practice. The coals sizzle when my blood wets them, and the noise is accompanied with a shout from Dauntless and stunned silence from the rest of the room.

I'm basically lifted out of my seat by the movement of the rest of Dauntless when the ceremony ends. They sprint for the exit, and I follow. I'm finally leaving the pain and the fear behind. So long, brother.

The run isn't hard, given that I stay in pretty good shape with all the physical work involved in Amity, although somehow I never seem to be able to build muscle. I notice some of the other transfers struggling to keep up as we leave the building, and I'm happy I have a jump on them in at least one department. After a couple more blocks, we reach the tracks. They loom in front of us, tall and grey and imposing. But they are just a small challenge in what I imagine will be many before I join Dauntless. Grabbing onto the highest rung of the maintenance ladder that I can reach, I climb.

The ladder made the climb easy and efficient, and I have some time before the train comes by. I can see it farther down the track, about a block away. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I wait, filled with adrenaline. I know if I jump wrong or miss the train I'm dead or factionless, but I don't care. I'm away from Ashton, and that's all that matters.

"Run!" someone screams down the platform, and I obey, running parallel to the tracks. The engine of the long train passes me by, and I look behind me and spot an open car a couple cars back. I move closer to the track, and leap for the handle of the car as it whizzes past. I manage to grab the handle and my momentum swings me inside. A rush of pride fills me as I land inside. Two Dauntless sit on the opposite side of the car, and they look up at me briefly before returning to their whispered conversation. I sit down next to the door and watch the city whiz by, my stomach growling.

"They're jumping!" I hear a voice call from a couple cars up, jolting me out of my reverie. The couple sitting across from me rolls their eyes and stands.

"I don't understand why it always shocks the transfers that we jump off the train. We jump on, why wouldn't we jump off?" the girl grouses, and the boy nods in agreement. I follow their lead, and stand up by the door. I see people flying off the train onto the rooftop, landing with varying degrees of grace.

"Ready? You just have to jump," the boy turns to me with a wicked grin. Surprised as I am by the fact that he is actually talking to me, I nod, shaking out my arms. The girl leans around his chest to wink at me. I smile back at her before turning back to the roof. We're close now, and getting closer at an alarmingly fast rate. I inhale, the air thick with smoke from the train. Suddenly the roof is in front of us. Without a second thought, I jump. Death or Dauntless are the only choices left.

The gravel on the rooftop scratches my hands as I land. Pulling myself up quickly, I look around for the Dauntless couple that was in the car with me. They seem to have disappeared, along with the rest of the members that were with us. Only the initiates and a tall, threatening man is left on the roof. The man has blonde hair slicked back with shaved sides and bulging muscles. Two piercings rest above his right eyebrow. An irritated scowl graces his face. The other initiates' nervous titter is suddenly broken by a heart-wrenching scream. A Dauntless-born girl is leaning over the barrier that runs the perimeter of the roof crying and being held back by a boy. After a minute, the girl turns with a wail and buries her face in the boy's black clothing. Someone already didn't make it.

"Listen up, initiates!" everyone silences, leaving only the girl's sobs. The man glares at her for a moment, before turning back to the mass of initiates that has gathered in front of him. I'm near the back, and take in my competition. There are ten Dauntless-born initiates, standing together on the right of the group. The transfers mingle in a confused haze of blue, black, and white- there's four Erudite and four Candor transfers, making nine transfers in all. I realize with a sinking heart that I'm the only Amity transfer, and there's no one from Abnegation. My transfer would be less noticeable if I wasn't the only one. But my aptitude test says Dauntless as the official result. I should be safe.

"I'm one of the leaders here," the man's voice pulls me from my calculations. "Several stories below us is the members' entrance to our compound. If you can't muster the courage to jump off, you don't belong here. So if you're not going to jump, you can just get out now," I see eyes widen in fear at his harsh words.

"You want us to jump off a ledge?" an Erudite boy with sandy blond hair asks. I roll my eyes at his question.

"I'm pretty sure that's what I just said," the leader glares.

"Is there water at the bottom or something?" one of the Erudite boy's friends asks.

"Guess you'll find out. Or not," the man smirks, his eyes raking over the mass of initiates. "So," he rubs his hands together, "Who's first?"

Nobody moves. I let out a heavy sigh and step forward. The crowd parts for me, awed looks on many faces. I step up on the ledge next to the leader. He looks me over, his face expressionless.

"An Amity," he cocks an eyebrow, "We don't get many of those." I shrug. Take a deep breath. Then, wanting his appraising eyes off of me, I jump. Even if there's nothing but hard concrete at the bottom, everything will be ok. Death could be my reprieve as easily as Dauntless could.

But death does not come. A net does, jarring my body as I bounce into it. I barely contain a scream as the net presses into my still tender body. I lay prone in the net for a second, gasping for breath as the pain bites into me. The rest doesn't last long enough, and the net dips, rolling me towards the edge. Strong hands clamp around my waist, and I start to struggle, the pain forgotten. I'm put down on the ground, and I jump away from the hands, almost bumping into a girl behind me. The man attached to them looks to be a couple years older than me, and very confused. It takes me a second to realize he was just helping me out of the net, and I'm immediately shameful of my response. The fear was automatic.

"Sorry," I look at my feet, my voice quiet.

"An Amity as a first jumper," the girl behind me looks surprised, "What is this world coming to?"

"Shut up, Lauren," the boy snaps, still looking at me. "What's your name?" My name. Harmony doesn't seem quite right for Dauntless. And if I'm leaving behind my old life, might as well leave behind the name. I consider it for a moment, knowing that this is my only chance to change my identity.

"Scarlett," I whisper, trying to hide the pain that threatens to overtake me. The name reminds me of my mother, who used to wear the color frequently.

"First jumper-Scarlett!" the boy lifts my hand in the air. The Dauntless cheer, and the noise seems to bounce around the dark stone walls. My head aches. I'm so, so hungry. Black starts to dot my vision.

"Scarlett! Scarlett!" I can faintly hear the crowd chanting my new, fiery name. My knees go weak, and the boy's hand on mine is all that keeps me from crumpling to a heap on the floor.


	4. Chapter 5- Fix Me

**Thanks for everyone who reviewed/favorited, they've been encouraging :)**

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._ I wake to the noise of a machine that's tracking my vitals. The lines that are displayed on the little pixelated screen next to the bed look normal. My eyes take in my surroundings, confused. I'm in a hospital bed surrounded by a white curtain hanging from a silver bar that makes an arc around the bed. A thin blanket covers my body, still in the red Amity dress. I sit up, a small moan escaping my lips as my body protests. I'm sore all over from Ashton's slaps and presses and fingers. A small tug on my elbow with my movement makes me notice the IV in my arm. The tube leads to a bag full of clear liquid and I wonder what they're pumping into me.

A girl with a streak of green in her brown hair pulls back the curtain and steps into my little white space.

"How are you feeling?" she steps towards the machine, recording its numbers on her clipboard.

"I've felt worse," I run a hand through my tangled hair. A slight panic fills me before I realize that Ashton isn't here to dictate my appearance. The thought sends a thrill through me. "What happened?"

"You passed out. Caused quite the scene," she glances at me with a smile, "It was probably caused by malnutrition. When was the last time you ate?" I look down at my hands in my lap.

"Last night," I remember the banana I had at dinner. If I tell her it was only a banana, she'll want to know why. And I don't want to talk about it.

"Mm-hm. And what did you eat?" she turns to look at me straight on, crossing her arms. Of course she had to ask.

"A banana," I curse my Candor for forcing me to tell the truth.

"And would I be correct in saying that that was all you ate yesterday?" And the day before that. I nod, not meeting her eyes. "Why weren't you eating?" I don't respond. She sighs, sitting down on the bed next to me. "If you need help with an eating disorder, I can help you. Or find someone to help you, if you'd rather."

"I don't have an eating disorder," I meet her eyes finally.

"Don't want to talk about it?" she wipes the tears from my cheeks. I nod. "Ok. But if you need anything, come talk to me."

"Thank you," I half smile, genuinely grateful for her care. It's been so long since I've felt any.

"I'm Wilder, by the way. It's almost dinner time, do you think you'll be ok to go?"

"Probably." And food does sound good. Really good. Whatever they're pumping into me seems to have given me enough energy to be awake, but I'm still ravenous.

"Good. Makes my life easier, I won't have to haul food up for you," Wilder takes my temperature. I snort. Happiness feels good.

Wilder and I weave through the constantly moving mass of black that occupies the cafeteria. The energy is invigorating, free. If I wasn't so embarrassed by the stares that come my way when people recognize me as the girl who fainted, I might smile. But I just keep my eyes on Wilder's back, trying to ignore the gossip that surrounds me. Seeming to sense my unease, she reaches back and takes my hand, pulling me closer to the buffet. I release my breath with a sigh at the long stretch of food in front of me. I feel like I could eat it all.

Wilder hands me a plate, and I fill it with mashed potatoes, green beans, and some sort of bean patty. They all look good, though I honestly don't remember what tastes good. Food has been mostly about survival for the past few years. Wilder leads me to an empty table in the corner, where it is a little quieter. Driven by instinct and an intense hunger, I start shoveling food into my mouth.

"Take it slow, you don't want to get sick," Wilder warns. I nod, but keep eating. It feels so good to be able to eat without restraint.

"You look like you haven't eaten for weeks, Amity," a deep voice observes from behind me. I freeze, and turn to see the man from the roof. Behind him is the one who helped me from the net and took my name. "Wilder," the leader nods at her.

"Eric," she nods in return. Eric. The short, clipped name seems just right for his dominating aura.

"We'll have to take you from your dinner, Scarlett. You missed the tour with your little episode and we need to get you settled before curfew," the man who was at the net steps forward.

"Can't I finish eating?" my heart sinks at the thought of having to give up this food I have finally gotten my hands on. I shove another forkful of potatoes into my mouth, hoping it won't be my last. I don't want it to be taken away from me again so soon.

"Sure-" he starts to reply, before Eric cuts him off.

"No. We need to get this done. And I don't have all day to wait around for you just because you're weak."

"Eric!" Wilder stands, slamming her hands on the table. "She hasn't eaten anything but a banana for the last 24 hours _at least._ She needs to eat something! She passed out because she wasn't being fed!" I look at Wilder in surprise, but am glad for her defense. It allows me to get in another bite of my dinner.

"Fine," Eric slams his solid body onto the bench next to me, making the whole thing jolt. "But you better be fast," he glares. The other man walks around the table to sit next to Wilder.

"Take your time, it's fine," he says, and Eric turns his glare on him. "I'm Four." I nod in recognition, my mouth too full to answer. A couple more minutes past in silence. I savor the full meal in front of me, but my stomach aches when I finished. Maybe I should have listened to Wilder and not eaten so much so fast. Eric pushes my plate towards Wilder, indicating for her to clean it up, before pulling me out of my chair. I stumble after him and Four, having to half jog to keep up with their long strides. My hopes for a peaceful dinner and night are blown to the wind.

"And finally, this is the dormitory," Eric gestures to a plain black door, which Four pulls open. They'd given me a quick tour of the compound, including only the Pit, the Chasm, and the training room, explaining the ranking system along the way. I didn't pay much attention to their words, distracted by the activity of the Dauntless and the pain in my shocked stomach. It hasn't had this much to digest for a long, long time.

Eric snaps his fingers in front of my face, calling me back to the present.

"Come on, Amity, pay attention," he leads me into the dormitory. The room is lit by harsh fluorescents set into the dark grey ceiling. Black iron beds line the walls and form a line down the middle of the room. Some of them are already made, covered in black blankets. "Transfers and Dauntless born have separate dormitories, so there will only be the nine of you in here. The bathroom is co-ed as well." I swallow, wishing there was more privacy than the stall-less toilets. I'll have to be really careful for the next couple days before my bruises fade. "Bedding is in the drawer under the bed, and you can find clothes in the bins over there," he points. "Training starts at eight in the morning and goes to six, with a break for lunch. After training you will have free time, with which you can do whatever you want. Four will be your main instructor, but I'm overseeing initiation this year, so I will be there sometimes." Great, I get to see him more. My stomach starts to turn, and I struggle to keep my face impassive.

"Thank-" I start to thank him, but then bile is racing up my throat, and I can't stop it. My stomach empties it's contents right onto Eric's pristine black combat boots. I cough, trying to rid my mouth of the nasty taste.

It isn't until Four starts laughing that I realize what just happened.

"I-" But my stomach finds something else in it's roiling depths, and it joins my dinner on Eric's feet. I look up at him, terrified. His face is red and he stands stock-still. His hands start to tremble, and his complexion takes on a purplish hue. "I'm so sorry," I stammer out, unsure of what to do. Four is still laughing, and hands me a towel. I wipe my face off, staring at the mess on Eric's feet.

"Guess you should clean that up," Four gets out between laughs. I bend down and dab at the mess with the towel, wrinkling my nose.

"Forget it," Eric laces his fingers in my hair and yanks me away. I look up at him, and suddenly realize what a compromising position I'm in. His fingers tighten as I try to pull away. Four has stopped laughing and watches the exchange with interest. With a final yank of my hair, Eric releases me and I scramble to my feet and away from him. "Afraid are we, Amity?" he smirks.

"Leave her alone, Eric," Four sighs, running a hand through his hair, his amusement gone. Eric glares at him, but turns and stomps from the room, leaving a trail of smelly footprints. "Clean this up and then change. And try not to do anything else to piss of Eric, okay? He's not someone who's bad side you want to be on." I nod, not trusting myself to speak. "Well, see you tomorrow," Four leaves, glancing back at my shaking frame once. I sigh, and bend over to clean the floor.

I'm wiping the last of the vomit off the floor when the first initiates return from dinner. They're laughing and playfully pushing each other into the walls. I straighten up and toss the wet towel into the can by the door that contains everyone's old clothes.

"Hey, she's alive," one of the boys comments, turning their attention to me. I nod at them, but turn away to find myself one of the training uniforms. There are two bins, one labeled boys, the other girls. I pull a package out of the girls bin, noting that the boys is almost empty and the girls is full apart from the package I just took.

"What happened?" another boy asks me, plopping down on what is presumably his bunk.

"I passed out," I avoid his gaze, and place my pack of clothes down on the floor by a bunk in the corner, then pull the blankets from the drawer. I'll make my bed now, and hopefully they'll leave so I can change.

"Why?" he asks me. He was obviously an Erudite.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I focus on the black sheets in my hands.

"Whatever," he shrugs, turning away. I sigh in relief, and finish making the bed. Other initiates start filing into the room, and I realize with a sinking heart that every single one of them is a boy. I'm the only girl. A glance at the clock tells me it wouldn't be a ridiculous time to go to bed, and I just don't want to deal with any of this right now. I shove the unopened packet of clothes into the drawer that contained my sheets and slide onto my bunk, still in my red dress. Despite the noise in the dorm, I'm instantly asleep.

I wake in the middle of the night to the lights flashing on, my body covered in sweat and my throat raw. Two boys sit on the bunk next to mine, staring at me with their brows furrowed. Everyone is sitting up in bed, awake and not happy about it.

"Who's Ashton?" one of the boys next to me asks. His hair is a dirty blonde, and flops over concerned grey eyes.

"N-no one," my voice is shaky.

"You were telling him to stop and screaming in your sleep. He can't be no one," the other boy retorts, his brown eyes piercing into me.

"I'm sorry for waking you all up, but really its nothing. Just go back to bed." I just want to go back to bed, and they don't need to know about my struggles. They'll think I'm even weaker than they already do. A couple boys roll over and lay back down. Someone turns out the lights.

"Are you sure you're ok?" the blonde stares at me, forcing me to make eye contact.

"Positive," I try to give him a convincing smile, and the look on his face tells me that I succeeded. The blonde and brown-eyed boys return their bunks, and I lay back, staring at the ceiling. I toss and I turn, but I can't get back to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, Ashton appears behind my lids, jerking me awake again. I jam my palms into my eyes, as tears start to creep out. I haven't escaped him.


	5. Chapter 6- Nightmares

6- Nightmares

The door to the training room slams behind me, and I randomly sprint down the hall. I know it was cowardly of me to run away, but I couldn't just stand there and take it. Tears stream down my face and I choke on a sob.

Being blamed for what happened to me, like I did it willingly, is just too much. Nobody, especially Eric, will ever understand what I went through. I stop running, realizing I'm completely lost. With a final, shuddering sob, I start walking, hoping that somehow I'll end up somewhere familiar. I stick to the shadows, just in case Eric is looking for me. After what seems like forever, but is probably less than an hour, I find myself in the Pit. I exhale shakily. But I don't know what to do, now that I'm no longer lost. I can't go back to Eric; I can't face him right now. And if I go to join Four and his initiates, he'll just send me back to Eric.

So I decide I might as well shop, given that I'm in the Pit anyways. I've never picked out my own clothes before, and it's a refreshing feeling. I find a long sleeved mock neck top that is made of a light enough material that I won't overheat but it'll cover my marks. I get it in black and red, as well as a mock neck tank and two pairs of black leggings. With a second of consideration, I decide to add a loose black turtleneck and a pair of short spandex for pajamas. I flop my purchases on the counter and look up at the dark skinned girl behind it. She smiles at me as I type my name in, tucking a piece of her sharp black bob behind her ear.

"Shouldn't you be training, initiate?" her grin grows as my profile shows up and she takes the points from my account.

"Maybe," I shrug, matching her smile.

"Well," she laughs, "I can't say I didn't cut class every now and then. But on the first day?" she shakes her head, "That's pretty intense."

"Eric's a jerk," I pull on the zipper of my jacket, making sure it's all the way to the top.

"Yeah," she snorts. "You a stiff? Most people aren't that worried about showing skin."

"No, just…covering up," I take my bag from her hands, and she gives me a strange look but nods.

"I guess I'll see you around," she waves as I step away from the counter. I wiggle my fingers at her over my shoulder, and hear her laugh as I step out of the shop. I walk back to the dorm, yawning. With still a couple hours left until dinner, I decide I could use a nap.

"Scarlett, wake up," Will shakes my shoulder, and I open my eyes slowly. A smile creeps onto my face as I sit up.

"It's dinner time, come on," Riley claps his hands from the end of my bed, urging me up.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I run a hand through my still straight hair, and pull myself out of bed.

"Race you to the dining hall," Riley challenges, before taking off towards the door.

"No fair, you're closer," Will jets after him. Checking my zipper to make sure it's all the way up, I sigh and race after them.

We dodge people as we sprint through the hallways, laughing at their surprised looks. I catch up to Will as we round the corner out of the initiate wing, slapping his shoulder lightly as I pass him. He smiles at me, pushing to keep up. We reach Riley as we enter the dining hall.

"Everybody's a winner!" Riley takes on an overly cheery tone, and we laugh. We plop down at the end of an empty table. Trays of bread, chicken, vegetables, rice, and beans are set down the center of the tables. They load their plates, hungry after a day of training. Guilt from skipping training sends an uncomfortable feeling through my stomach, but I ignore it and grab some veggies and beans. If Eric wasn't such an asshole, it wouldn't have been an issue.

"So," Will takes a bite of chicken, his words garbled by the food, "How was training with Eric?" I swallow too fast, sending me into a coughing fit. Riley hands me a glass of water, and I sip at it for a second.

"Sorry, thanks," I smile at Riley, "It was ok. He just taught me some basic fighting moves, and then let me go through them on the bag. How was Four?"

"Not bad, but he spent _forever_ on safety shit before we even got to do anything," Will rips his roll in half before tearing into it with his teeth. I laugh at his vicious display, and let them lead the conversation far, far away from my training.

An extra black sheet hangs like a curtain for my shower stall, and it's now soaked from the warm spray, but at least no one can see my body with all its marks. I flick off the hot water and reach around the curtain for my clothes. Careful not to drop them or touch them to the dripping walls, I pull them onto my damp body. The shorts are a little short for my liking, the sweater falling past their hem, and I pull the hem down a little more, grimacing. I tuck a corner of the sweater into the waistband to assert that I am in fact wearing pants, and step out of the shower with the little pink bottles of soap and black towel that they provided us. Eyes fly towards my stall as I step out, seemingly eager for a glance of my skinny body. I glare, and the eyes find something else to look at.

After shoving my stuff into the drawer under my bed, I plop down onto it. My wet hair drips onto the sheets, taking on its slight natural curl. Wincing as knots pull at my fingers, I pull it into a messy bun on top of my head. I add finding a comb, a brush, anything, to my mental list. They didn't include one in our little toiletry packets.

"Five minutes until I'm turning these stupid lights out," Grant, a tall, lanky blonde leans against the wall by the door, his fingers twitching over the light switch. I roll my eyes, but lay back in bed, flopping an arm over my eyes to block out the still bright lights. "5, 4, 3-"

"Hey, it's barely been a minute!" someone across the room protests as Grant starts the countdown.

"Sucks for you," Grant flips the lights off, and curse words float his way as he saunters back to his bed, laughing. I settle deeper into my pillow, flipping back a loose piece of wet hair and shut my eyes.

 _"_ _Baby sister, baby sister, where are you?" Ashton's voice contains a smirk as he hunts the house for me. I shrink deeper into the black corner of the closet, huddled among the bright towels and linens. They still smell of lavender and honey, like my mother used to. My breath comes too fast, too shaky, despite the comforting smell. If only she was still alive, this wouldn't be happening. The only reason I would be hiding from my brother then would be if we were playing a game. And although this might be a game to him, it is most definitely not one to me. "Found you!" the door swings open, shining light down upon my shaking form. "Were you trying to escape me, baby sister?" he places a finger under my trembling chin, lifting my tear-streaked face. "You know how that turns out," he shakes his head, his lips curling into a sneer._

 _"_ _Please, don't hurt me," I retreat farther into the closet, into myself._

 _"_ _You going to beg, baby sister? Go on, beg for me. Tell me how much you hate it," Ashton's face contorts cruelly, "I know you're lying." His hands reach out and lift my tiny body from the closet without an ounce of effort. I struggle in his grip, kicking my pre-teen legs at his muscled chest. He slams my face into the ground, his large hand tangled in my hair. "Too late now, baby sister." I hear his belt clicking as he slides it out of his jeans, dirtied from a day in the field. I whimper as he hits me, the belt stinging on my back. He swings and swings until I stop struggling under his hand and my mouth goes silent. Then the real torture begins._

I jerk awake, my eyes flying wide open, trying to banish the memory along with the sleep. It takes me a second to realize I'm no longer in the dorm, and something is pinning down my limbs. I blink a couple times before realizing Eric is holding me down on a wide black leather couch in what I presume is his apartment.

"It's about time," sweat drips down his forehead, "You kick like a fucking kangaroo."

"Let go of me," I glare at him, wiggling in his grasp. He hesitates, but releases my wrists and sits up, still straddling my knees. I scoot backwards on the couch, pulling my legs out from between his, watching him suspiciously the whole time. "What am I doing here?"

"You wouldn't stop fucking screaming, so one of the stupid, goddamned," a string of unfavorable adjectives follows, "initiates came and got me so they could sleep. They didn't take into account that I would have to listen to you scream and keep you from fucking killing me for the next hour."

"Sorry for having _fucking_ nightmares," I mimic his angry language, and he glares harder. Someone doesn't like having his sleep interrupted.

"What was so hard about your happy little Amity life to give you nightmares? Monsters under the bed? Spiders?" he wiggles his fingers, mocking my claims.

"Why do you think you know so much about my life?" I stand up from the couch, my hands in tight fists by my sides. "Thanks for your _hospitality_ but I think I'll be going."

"Not so fast," he grabs my wrist as I pass by him on the way to the door. I try to jerk away, but he's too strong. "You go back to sleep without talking out your nightmare and it's just going to come back. And you think I'm going to let you interrupt my sleep without knowing the reason?" he pulls me back down onto the couch, dangerously close to him. "And you still owe me for barfing all over my shoes."

"I'm not talking to you about this," I slide away, as far as his grip will let me.

"I don't recall giving you a choice, Amity," Eric pulls me back towards him.

"Ok, fine. It was a petty little nightmare about bugs and things that go bump in the dark. Happy now?" I pull away again.

"You're quite clearly lying to me," he yanks me back.

"Let go of me!" I pull at his fingers around my wrist, trying to break his grasp. My breathing speeds up as I realize that I'm alone in a room with a man who could easily snap me in half, quite possibly has bad intentions, and the rest of the compound is asleep. No one would hear me scream.

"Make me," he growls, pulling me into his lap with my legs on either side of his waist. "Now tell me." I'm straight up hyperventilating at this point, and my vision is going blurry.

"Stop it." My voice is weaker than I would have liked, but I can't seem to find anything stronger in me. Maybe I wasn't meant for Dauntless after all. I start trembling.

"You'd have to beg for me." My vision blurs farther, blood pounds in my head.

"Ashton, please," I turn my head away, trying to pull away.

"Ashton? Who's Ashton? You said his name while you were dreaming." I gasp at my mistake, so easily made in my fear. "Was he your boy toy? Did he like it when you _begged?"_ An amused smirk takes over Eric's face. Anger rushes through my body.

"You think I'm ever going to open up to a jerk like you?" I slap at him with my free hand, and he catches my wrist, pulling my hands together in one of his fists.

"After I stayed up all night listening to you scream you're still calling me a jerk?"

"Did I ask you to?" I glower at him, still trying to yank my hands away.

"Fine," he releases me, and I'm on the other side of the couch in a flash, my hands curled to my chest. Eric stands up and drops the blanket from the back of the couch into my lap. "Get some sleep."

"I'm going back to the dorms," I start to stand.

"No, you're not," he pushes me back to the couch with a palm on my head, "If you start screaming again I don't want to have to come back down and alleviate the initiates of the headache." I glare at him, and he laughs. "Just go to bed, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Oh sure," I roll onto my side, pulling the heavy black blanket over my body. I can _feel_ him roll his eyes as he scoffs and walks into what I presume is his bedroom.

"Good night, Amity."

"Fuck you," I whisper into the fluffy pillow under my head. Even if by some miracle I fall back asleep, there's no way this is a good night.


	6. Chapter 7- Elusion

7- Elusion 

My body feels unnaturally heavy the next morning when Eric finally steps out of his bedroom. Even after I stopped shaking, I couldn't close my eyes without Ashton flashing over the backs of my eyelids, preventing me from sleep.

"Get your ass up, Amity," he runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair as he crosses the room.

"I am up, asshole." I don't know where my bravery comes from, but I'm exhausted and grumpy and really, really don't want to deal with Eric.

"Somebody's not a morning person," he continues past the couch into the small kitchen area separated from the living room by a counter with black cushioned bar stools. I sit up, watching his every move with caution. The room is bright from the fluorescents hanging from the ceiling, and I notice things I didn't last night: the sharp carvings of his muscles on his bare chest, the slight tan on his skin despite always being underground, the way his arms are riddled with raw muscle. I swallow and look away. He opens the stainless steel fridge, which matches the rest of the appliances in the space, and pulls out a jug of orange juice. Untwisting the plastic orange lid, he takes a swig straight from the bottle. "Juice?" he extends the bottle towards me, despite the distance between us, while digging through the fridge for something else.

"No, thanks," I wrinkle my nose. He just shrugs. With a wide stretch, I push off the blanket and slide off the couch.

"Can I use your bathroom?" I run my hand through my hair, which has dried in loose curls. Eric grunts a yes, taking another drink of juice, still not looking at me. Rolling my eyes, I trudge into the large, dark tiled room. A shower with frosted glass walls sits in a corner beside a black granite sink and across form a plain white toilet. A large fluffy black towel hangs next to the shower.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. My face is pale and heavy bags hang under my eyes. A bruise colors the side of my cheek purple. I wasn't able to bring my makeup with me, so I guess I'll just have to leave it. People will probably think it's from training. I squirt a little toothpaste on my finger and brush my teeth with it the best that I can. It's not very effective, but it gets the nasty taste out of my mouth. I wash my face and try to get some color into my cheeks to make the harsh bruise less noticeable. Giving up on my appearance, I tuck my hair over one shoulder and return to the living room.

A sharp sizzling greets me, accompanied by the smell of warm pancakes. Pancakes like my dad used to make, early on weekend mornings when breakfast was served later. The smell would always draw me out of bed faster than any alarm clock. Tears prick my eyes at the simple habit of my father's, and how quickly it was over.

"What happened to your face?" Eric's voice snaps me back to the present, and I blink away any semblance of my sad nostalgia. He stands at the stove, turned to look at me. My lips tighten. I wish I could just lie, say I fell or something, but my Candor makes it difficult. Maybe I should have gone there.

"That's none of your business."

"You're my initiate, of course it's my business."

"It happened before I was your initiate, so it isn't." Eric's eyes flash with annoyance, but he turns back to the stove, his grip tight on the spatula in his hand. He flips four pancakes from the griddle to a plate. "I'd better be going," I start towards the door, wanting to be able to change and eat before training starts.

"I made you breakfast and you aren't even going to eat it?" I whip around at his pissed tone, eyes narrowed.

"Did I ask for breakfast?" I cross my arms, refusing despite the tempting smell. "No. Now I'm going to go change because I don't want to work out like this." Despite the fact that the shorts cover the bruising on my upper thighs when just sleeping and walking, I don't know if they'll cover everything when I'm moving. I match his glare, before turning back towards the door.

"You're awfully brave, aren't you?" Eric's voice is right behind me, and he slams his hands on the door above my head, trapping me between his massive chest and the wood. I turn to him, pressing my back against the door to keep as much space between us as possible. A shake starts to consume my body, and my breathing speeds. "But you always seem to break down when I tease you like this," he leans closer, my heart beats faster. "Makes me wonder how you let your boy mark you up like you did." His finger reaches in and traces along my collarbone where Ashton's marks are. He looks up at me and arches an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Wh-what?" Fear consumes my trembling form as he leans closer. I can't think coherently enough to know what he asked.

"I want to know why you get so _terrified_ when I touch you but you're covered in marks," his icy blue eyes bore into me, the bruise on my cheek. I feel like he can see right through my clothes to the red spots and bruises underneath.

"It's none of your business," my voice still shakes from fear, but it's stronger than before, fueled by anger, a need to escape.

"You really like your secrets, Amity," he traces a long finger across my bruised cheek, making me flinch. "I guess I'll just have to _uncover_ them." I jerk backwards towards the door, my hands latching onto my top. He laughs, reaching for the hem of my sweater. I grasp it in my tiny, trembling hands, pulling it down so he can't move it. His hands wrap over mine, pulling the sweater up a tiny bit just to show that he can despite my resistance. "Or you can make this easy and just tell me."

I bite my lip, looking down at the floor. He doesn't understand that it's not that easy, that just saying the words that describe my pain is still impossible. He doesn't understand how afraid I am, how much he's hurting me.

"Guess you want this the hard way," he starts to pull the sweater up, my hands still trapped under his, making it as if I'm taking it off for him. The idea sickens me.

"No!" I try to resist his force, and he pauses after exposing my stomach to meet my eyes.

"So you'll tell me?" he starts to lower the sweater and I breathe with relief. "Better hurry up, I'm not patient." The hem pulls back up again a little.

"I-I…" I trail off, unable to find the words to fit between my haggard breaths.

"Come on, Amity," the sweater inches higher, "It can't be that hard."

"I can't," I sob, continuing my futile attempts to keep my sweater on my body. Full tears are running down my cheeks at this point, and my body is racked with sobs.

"You've made your choice then," Eric smirks and starts pulling faster. I cross my arms over my chest so he can't pull any higher.

"You have no right to do this," I tremble, memories of my brother haunting the dark corners of my brain.

"Why not?" Eric works on prying my arms from my body, but I'm resisting with my full power.

"I am _not_ a thing to just be _played_ with," I hug myself tighter, struggling against his pull. "Despite what everyone seems to think."

"So this has happened before?" Eric lifts an eyebrow, pausing his attack, and laughs lightly. "I got _something_ out of you."

"I'd prefer not to repeat the experience," I glare, my anger flaring at his amusement.

"Then maybe you should just tell me why you're so afraid. Or how you let your boy toy-"

"I didn't have a _boy toy_!" I scream at him, snapping. "You think I _wanted_ any of this? This fear, these nightmares? I didn't want a single second of it, and I don't want it now, so back the _fuck_ off." Tears fly down my face as fast as the words out of my mouth. Eric is momentarily frozen at my outburst, before he yanks my sweater over my head, anger in his eyes. I gasp at the sudden cold on my skin, wrapping my arms around my shaking body trying to hide the marks. Eric pulls my arms away, pinning them behind my back. His grip is to strong for me to even struggle.

He stares at my exposed body, dressed only in the strappy black sports bra they gave us and my spandex shorts. I shake harder under his intense scrutiny of my body. My eyes flick down to look over the eight dark red marks that trail over my collarbone and slightly up my neck. Strips of bruises peek out from the top of my shorts from Ashton's grip. Bite marks dot my rib cage, where Ashton knows it hurts the most. A slight whimper escapes my lips as he transfers my wrists to one hand and traces over the marks that run around my hips. His eyes are almost black, his pupils dilated. I gulp, glancing down to notice the tent that has formed in his slim black jeans. My mouth goes dry as I recognize the all too familiar sign.

"Do not push me," Eric's hand travels up my side to touch the marks on my ribs one by one, his voice deathly quiet. I wince. "Remember that I have the power to kick you out. Or kill you." Like I would care. "Go eat," he steps back and pushes me towards the counter, tossing my sweater across the room onto the couch. I veer towards it, but Eric blocks my path. "You aren't getting it back until you tell me," an amused smirk touches his lips and I back away, too afraid not to give in.

I sit down on one of the stools, and Eric shoves a plate of pancakes at me. My appetite is gone despite the smell, but I pick at the fluffy circles anyways so as not to anger him further.

"So we're meeting with Max about the whole nightmare thing in," he glances at his watch, "about twenty minutes. We have to decide if you can stay in the dorms with the screaming. Apparently it happened the first night too," he glances at me before popping a piece of a pancake into his mouth, casual. As if nothing even happened, as if I'm not sitting here trembling and half naked.

"Can-can I get dressed first?" I glance at him for a second before returning my eyes to my plate.

"I don't think Max would mind if you went like this," Eric smirks at me, trailing a finger down my bare arm.

"But I can't explain…" I wave an exasperated hand across my body as I jerk away from his touch, "this."

"He'll just assume it was me," he leans towards me for a second before returning to his breakfast.

"And won't that get you in trouble?" I turn my head to look at him, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I'm surprised you would care about me at all."

"I just want to be decent," I glare at him, but my words are pleading.

"Fine, we'll stop back at the dorms," he shoves the last of his food into his mouth. "Put your shirt back on." I leave my barely touched food on the counter, and slide back into my sweater as fast as possible, smoothing it over my body with a sigh of relief. Eric slings his black jacket with the high collar over his shoulder and shoves his feet into his black combat boots. He slams the door open, frustrated about god knows what, and I follow him into the hall, my bare feet chilly on the floor.

I pull out a pair of leggings, one of my new tops, a pair of black underwear and one of the other sports bras from the bins. I've emptied all of the bras, underwear, and leggings from the packs of female initiate clothing into my drawer and the drawer of the bed next to me. There isn't anyone else to use it, so I might as well. I glance over at Eric, who is watching me. I stare at him for a second, waiting for him to look away, but he doesn't. Sighing, I walk into the bathroom. But he follows.

"Can I please have a little privacy?" I look up at him, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice. His mood swings are dangerous, as I've learned, and I don't want to start one.

"Hmmm…" he taps his chin as if he's thinking. "I've already seen everything, so what's the point?"

"You haven't seen me naked, and I'd like to _keep it that way_ ," I glare at him as he laughs.

"I wouldn't," his smirk is maniacal, but he turns around. I take the quick window to change, trying to keep as covered up as possible given that he could turn around any second.

"Ok, I'm ready," I brush past him and exchange the pajamas in my arms for my shoes. They're simple black combat boots, but they're insanely comfortable and moveable.

"Then let's get moving," Eric opens the door, without the slam this time, and lets me exit first before following. He leads me through a series of hallways, twisting and turning so much I couldn't retrace my steps if I tried. Finally, we climb what seems like a million flights of stairs up into the Pire. The glass walls give a full panoramic view of the Pit that takes my breath away. Masses of people flock below, an always-moving sea of black and deep red with the occasional brightly colored hairstyle. People mock fight, run, scream, chase, laugh, smile. I press my fingertips to the glass, stunned by the lively sight. "Amity," Eric draws out the syllables as he calls me back to the present. "We don't have all day. As a matter of fact, we're almost late."

"Sorry," I turn from the window, not particularly apologetic.

"You're late," Max taps his dark fingers on his steel desk. I fold my arms behind my back, clenching my hands together.

"Little Amity here was absolutely _enamored_ of the view," Eric smirks, amused.

"The view?" Max's eyes flick between us as he cocks an eyebrow.

"Of the Pit. From the Pire," I blush, not quite sure what Max is assuming, but knowing it isn't innocent.

"So on to our problem," Max smirks down at the desk for a second, before steepling his fingers and leaning forward to stare at me. "Nightmares." I nod, unable to look away from Max's dark brown eyes.

"She woke up the initiates the past two nights, screaming. Last night they couldn't wake her up, so they came and got me. She was thrashing and screaming for an hour after I got her back to my apartment before she woke up," Eric glances over at me for a second before looking back at Max who's _still_ staring at me.

"What is it that scares you so much?" Max tilts his head slightly, curious.

"She won't tell," Eric cuts in before I can answer, and he smirks in response to my glare.

"Most troublesome," Max finally looks away from me, shifting his attention to Eric. "But we'll find out eventually." Eric's smirk grows, a dark glint in his eyes. "In the meantime," Max returns his eyes to me, "we'll have to find somewhere else for you to stay. Moving you will make Four happy too, he expressed concern at you being the only female in the dormitory." I look at the floor, surprised he cared. Although Four was the one who organized for me to train separately.

"I have an extra room," Eric offers, and I snap my head up to look at him. "And I find the Amity rather…entertaining."

"Sounds like a good solution to me if you're willing, given that you're training her anyways," Max nods at Eric.

"N-no," I shake my head, my ponytail swinging with the vicious movement.

"No?" Max turns back to me, his dark eyebrows raised. "What's the problem?"

"Yeah, Amity, what's the _problem_?" Eric's eyes are dark and angry, but his words are smooth and seemingly just curious.

"I-just-Wouldn't it be more appropriate for me to stay with a female?" I twist my fingers together where they're clasped behind my back, and bite my lip.

"You'll just be staying in the same apartment, it's not like you're sleeping in the same bed," Max gives me a strange look.

"And the other initiates won't be jealous if she has to stay with me," Eric smirks, but his eyes are still angry. "I'm handling half of her training too, so it makes sense." My heart falls, knowing that there is no getting out of this.

"See, it's all very logical," Max taps his fingers together, then stands up. "I'm glad this worked out," he holds his hand out for Eric to shake, and he does. "Good luck with your training, initiate."

"Thank you, sir," I look at the floor, my chin trembling.

"Come on, Amity, we've got lots of work today," Eric places a hand on the small of my back and guides me from the room. As soon as we're out, I skip away from his hand, eliciting a laugh from him. "Oh, my little Amity, I'm sure you'll be used to me in no time."


	7. Chapter 8- Accommodations

8- Accommodations 

"Scarlett!" Riley throws himself at me as we walk into the dining hall for lunch, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a tight hug. I stumble backwards a few steps, my tiny body unable to hold up his large muscular one. Eric glares. "We were so worried, are you ok?" he pulls back a little to look at me.

"I'm good, thanks," I smile at him and Will, who pats my back. Eric glares harder.

"Come on, we're sitting over here," Will takes my hand, pulling me away from Eric. Riley grabs my other hand, both of them completely ignoring Eric's glare. I smirk to myself, knowing the lack of fear my friends hold for him bothers him immensely.

"So, where were you this morning?" Riley asks, handing me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in wax paper from the middle of the table.

"Thanks," I start unwrapping the sandwich, "Just training with Eric, which was ok, but tiring." He'd locked us in one of the private training rooms and made me go through a cycle of punches for hours, but he hadn't tried anything. "And we met with Max."

"Are you in trouble?" Will raises his eyebrows, taking a bite of an apple.

"No, about the nightmares," I look down at the table, blushing. "You know, with all the screaming."

"What about them?" Riley peels a cheese stick into a million little strands, eating them one at a time.

"They decided I can't stay in the dorm anymore because I'm disrupting everyone's sleep, and being sleep deprived isn't good for training," I finish my sandwich and lick peanut butter off my fingers.

"Where are you staying?" Will's voice is full of concern, as if he can already sense that the answer is not good.

"With Eric." My voice is barely a whisper and it trembles.

"Is that even safe?" Riley's face is contorted with disbelief.

"I don't like this," Will slams his hands down on the tabletop.

"I know, I don't either. But I don't have a choice," I start peeling an orange, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

"What is Max _thinking_? I'm sure he knows what kind of person Eric is," Will shakes his head, "At least enough to know that sending you to live with him is not a good idea."

"Max thought it was a good idea because Eric's training me and he thinks I'll be safer than in a dorm full of guys."

"Obviously not," Riley rubs his temples, "In the dorms you have us to protect you and you have more of a chance of being able to fight off another initiate. If Eric tried to hurt you, there would be nothing you could do. He's massive."

"I know. But what do I do? Tell Max I'm afraid?" I shake my head. "This is Dauntless. I'm not allowed to be afraid."

"I'm so sorry," Will pets my hair as tears threaten to leave my eyes. I lean my head on his shoulder, somehow finding his touch comforting. I guess it's because I trust him. "If we can do anything, just tell us."

"Yeah, we're here if you need us," Riley reaches across the table to pat my hand, concern in his eyes.

"Thanks guys," I smile weakly, sliding a piece of my orange into my mouth. "At least I've got weapons with you."

"True!" Riley smiles, more comfortable with the happier topic. "Are we doing guns again today?" I shrug, twisting my head on Will's shoulder to look up at him for answers.

"Yeah, that's what Four said this morning. Weren't you listening at all?" he raises an eyebrow at Riley and takes another bite of apple.

"Not particularly. Too tired," he yawns, as if to emphasize his point.

"Sorry," I blush, looking down at the orange in my hands.

"It's not your fault," Will and Riley say at the same time, and I have to laugh at their synchronization.

"I'd rather wake up every night than have you stay with Eric," Riley pops the last of his string cheese into his mouth. I smile, really enjoying this friend thing.

"That wasn't too bad," Riley stretches his arms over his head on the way to dinner, sore from holding up a gun for so long.

"Better than fighting," I gripe, recalling the sweaty morning practice with Eric.

"I second that," Will smiles, glancing down at me.

Dinner passes, the laughter and light words broken only by a visit from Eric to drop off a key to his apartment for me. It only solidifies the nightmare that happened in Max's office this morning. Riley and Will ignored it in the moment, glaring at Eric, and now they've brightened up again, throwing carrots and celery at each other.

"We should do something," Riley dumps his tray in the trashcan, followed by Will's and mine.

"Like what?" I ask as we start out of the dining hall.

"Tattoos!" Riley starts to skip down the hall, spinning in circles as we travel towards the Pit, smiling like a maniac. Will and I roll our eyes in sync, but follow after him. We weave through clusters of Dauntless as we cross the floor of the Pit and climb up to the second-floor tattoo parlor.

"What are you going to get?" Will runs his fingers along the designs decorating the walls, looking at me briefly for my answer.

"Nothing," I shake my head, bringing my eyebrows together. "I don't feel Dauntless enough yet." Our attention flicks to Riley, who within the first five minutes was in the corner getting Dauntless flames inked on his right shoulder blade.

"Yeah. We don't even know if we're going to make it. If I become…" he hesitates, choking on the word, "…factionless, I don't want a constant remainder of my failure."

"And it will interfere with training," I nod, my eyes still focused on Riley, who is serene on his stomach on the bench with the artist hunched over him holding the needle.

"True." We drift over to the waiting area and sink down in the plush black armchairs. We sit with idle chatter for a while, watching people mill about in the Pit through the glass wall of the tattoo parlor. "Are you really going to be ok with Eric?" Will's off-topic words cut through the peace that had built up in me. I sigh.

"I don't know," I bite my lip, hating making this admission. "But I don't really have a choice."

"Do you think you could stay with Lauren? She's the one training the Dauntless born," he adds at my confused look. "Or even Four. He's less dangerous than Eric."

"I asked Max if I could stay with a female, I said for appropriateness's sake, but he just dismissed it. Like he's absolutely certain Eric would never do anything." Which I know is false because of this morning, but I don't mention this to Will. He doesn't need to know how weak I am.

"You'd think he'd know better. He's got to know how Eric treats initiates," Will shakes his head.

"Exactly. He agreed to it without a second thought."

"Agreed to it?"

"Eric suggested it." I shiver as the statement leaves my lips. "I just want to know what his motives are."

"That is awfully…suspicious," Will is regarding me with deep concern in his eyes. I nod as Riley runs over to us, a huge grin on his face and his shirt in his hands. He doesn't seem to notice the intensity in the air from our conversation.

"Look," he turns to show us his back, now partially black and on fire. "What do you think?" He turns back to look at us, an excited grin on his face. The expectation in his eyes is enough to make me smile.

"It's pretty epic," I stand up, and earn myself a smile from him.

"Very Dauntless," Will's mouth twitches into a crooked grin.

"I know!" Riley wraps us both into a hug. "I can't believe you guys don't want anything."

"We're just not quite sure what to get yet," Will's smile doesn't hesitate through the lie.

"You Erudite always overthink things," Riley gives Will's arm a light punch as we leave the tattoo parlor, weaving back through the Pit. "And who knows what the Amity's problem is." I laugh at his sarcastic tone, and shrug. We head to the dorms, laughter filling our talk. It's only when we are outside the already darkened dorms that I realize that my destination is another. They seem notice the reality we were all denying at the same time, and our laughter falls silent.

"Well, I guess I'd better get going," I try to paste on a smile to assuage their worries, but even Riley looks serious.

"We'll see you at breakfast," Riley wraps his arms around my shoulders, and Will slides into the hug. I take a deep breath as we stand huddled together, before breaking away.

"Yeah," I nod, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. "Good night." I turn away before my mask can crack. They must know I'm scared, but they don't know just how scared I am. My steps are slow and dragging as I make my way through the compound. Following the directions Eric had written on a piece of paper wrapped around the key card in matte black ink brings me to his apartment too quickly, despite my lagging pace.

I pull the black card out of my pocket, and stare at the room number, 238, written on it in silver letters. I move it towards the scanner on the door, and then yank it back before it can be registered. This process repeats several times, as I am unable to gather the courage to enter. But given the late hour, Eric is quite possible asleep. Nodding to myself to try to cement this thought into my brain, I finally scan the card and open the door as the little button flashes green.

The apartment is cold, and I wrap my arms around myself. A box sits across the room, and the open top allows me to notice that it holds my stuff. The lights are on, bright compared to the dim lights of the nighttime hallway, and my heart sinks as I notice Eric on the long black leather couch with a file on his lap. The grey stone walls seem hostile.

"Where have you been?" The harshness in his voice makes me flinch back towards the door. He shuts the folder on his lap and casts it onto the coffee table, but remains on the couch. I'm tempted to run from the room, my Amity tells me to in order to avoid conflict, but everything I have is here and there's nowhere else to go.

"With my friends," I meet his sharp gaze, my Dauntless choosing to be brave, my Erudite telling me that it would only enrage him further if I ran away, and my Candor preventing me from lying.

"Did I give you permission to stay out?" His eyes are dangerously dark, his words slow and vicious.

"I wasn't aware that I needed it," I wrap my hands together behind my back to keep them from shaking.

"While you're staying with me, you need my permission for _everything_."

"You aren't my parent," I snap, although I know nothing about parents. "You can't tell me what to do in anything but a training environment."

"I'm giving up my own personal space to protect you, so you will do as I tell you," Eric's tone is level and calm, and it's scarier than if he was yelling. I swallow thickly but glare at him, not ready to give up yet.

"You _offered_ your 'personal space' and then you and Max forced me to take it. I don't want to be here." I'm shaking, and I'm not sure if it's from rage or fear.

"Regardless of what happened, I'm still a leader and I could still kick you out at any moment. If you don't want that to happen, I'd suggest you listen to me." The threat means more now that I have something to live for in the form of friendships. But I'm used to hunger and pain - I would survive. "Now, come here." _Come here, baby sister._

My shaking increases, now purely fear. I back against the door, as far from him as possible. Eric smirks, appreciating the dominance.

"Come here," he repeats, his eyes darkening further. I still refuse to move, but my eyes are trapped on his. "Come. Here." His voice is flooded with anger and the need for control. My Erudite tells me to go, that it's better not to enrage him further, but I can't move. His steely eyes seem to pin me to the wall better than his muscular arms could. "Looks like," he smirks, "someone needs a lesson in _obedience."_

"No!" my body jolts back against the door as if I'd been hit as he rises from the couch. I'm shaking violent now, his slow steps and malevolent smirk increasing the speed of my breathing.

"I think so," Eric stops in front of me and grasps my chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing me to look at him. "You've been very naughty."

"I'll tell Max what you're doing," I breathlessly threaten. I can't seem to find enough air to fill my lungs.

"You think he'll care? You think he'll take your word over mine?" he shakes his head, taking on a mock sad look. "You think he'll give one shit about you? No," his voice is hard now, threatening, "He'd _fuck_ you just as fast as I would." A little scream tears from my throat at his words, and I collapse farther against the door. "Cute," Eric smirks at the sound. "Let's get this little lesson started. Sit," he points at the floor, and I collapse all to easily onto it. "Good girl," he pets my hair like a dog. "Now, there is one way you can stop this." I look up at him, eyes wide and eager for a way.

"Anything," I plead, wincing at the submission in my voice.

"Tell me what your nightmares are about," he smirks, mirth and dark dominance filling his eyes. He reaches down to caress my cheek. "And I'll stop."

"I already told you, I _can't_ ," I whimper. Although Ashton isn't here, his threats still weigh me down. Eric snarls and pulls me to my feet by my hair. I wince at the pull.

"Then I guess I'd better start _teaching._ " I jerk away from him, but his hold in my hair prevents me from going anywhere. Then, to my surprise, he releases me. "Come," he starts towards the two doors across the room. I trail after him, my breath fast and halting.

Eric leads me through the door on the left into a blank room with only an empty closet, a bed covered in a grey comforter, and a little table as its contents. Ashton never took me to his bedroom, so the sight doesn't induce more fear.

"This will be your room. You can keep all your stuff in here but," he smirks, turning back to face me, "You'll be sleeping with me until you learn some _respect._ " My eyes widen. "I won't do anything as long as you aren't a bad little girl, and it will allow me to keep an eye on your nightmares." I almost sigh in relief, but his words aren't reassuring because I don't trust him. He turns me back towards the door with his hands on my shoulders and leads me into his bedroom. It looks more lived in, the bed unmade, clothes in the closet, boots stuffed with newspaper in the corner.

Eric sits down on the bed and unlaces his shoes. I start to do the same.

"Stop," he commands, sliding his second boot off. I glance up at him, my fingers freezing. "You aren't allowed to do anything until I tell you that you can."

"Can I take off my shoes?" My eyes are pleading but I refuse to let it taint my voice.

"Is that how you ask?" he chides as if he's addressing a small child.

"Can I _please_ take my shoes off? Sir," I add as an afterthought, hoping it will appease him.

"Good girl," he nods, smirking at the blush on my cheeks and obviously enjoying this power. "You may." With shaking hands, I slide my boots off my feet, leaving on the red socks I wear underneath. "Shirt next." I hesitate a little, but give in to his demand. He's already seen me in just a bra already. Eric smirk widens as he watches my every move from the bed. "Pants." A gasp escapes from my mouth as he gives the order. I shake my head, unwilling. " _Pants,_ Amity." He cracks his knuckles, each one giving off a defined pop. " _Now._ " My fingers tremble as I start to slide the leggings down my legs and off each foot, but I can't push him further than I already have without just bringing more pain for myself.

I'm left standing before him in only my black strappy sports bra and burgundy boy shorts, shaking furiously. Eric shucks his own shirt, leaving him in only black pajama pants.

"Come here," he reaches out his arms, and I reluctantly step towards him, ending up standing between his knees. Holding me in place by my waist, he looks over the wreckage that is my body. The marks on my hips are quite clearly hands now that they're more exposed, and the low cut of my underwear exposes the marks on my prominent hipbones. "You look so…abused," Eric's voice is a whisper and at his words I collapse against his chest with a sob. I've never heard the words out loud, and they send a wave of exhaustion over me but somehow also relief, even though I know Eric isn't going to do anything. He strokes my back, his touch now somehow tender.

Gently he rolls back onto the bed, pulling me on top of his chest under the covers, and somehow turning off the bedside lamp that provides the only light in the room. I tense as my bare thighs touch his bare chest, and push against his arms. Eric grimaces but after a second lets me go. I scoot away from him, but don't try to leave the bed. He seems satisfied with this, his previous anger somehow gone after I almost bared my body to him. I close my eyes and even my breathing, attempting to lull myself into sleep. Eric is much more successful, quiet snores filling the dark room.

With the utmost care not to wake him, I roll off the bed and reach around on the floor to find my shirt. I grab the first piece of cloth I find and pull it over my head. I'm absolutely exhausted after not sleeping last night, and somehow I find sleep after only an hour of tossing and turning.

I wake in the middle of the night with tears running down my face and shaking violently. But not from cold, because I'm pressed against something very warm. It takes a minute to register that I am not in Amity at the mercy of my brother, but in Dauntless at the mercy of Eric. His grey eyes are staring down at me as he holds my trembling form to his chest.

"I'm fine, you can let go," I push against him, seeking freedom.

"You are quite clearly not ok," he grips me tighter.

"I'll be ok faster if you let me go," I glare at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Consider it payback."

"For what?" my eyebrows scrunch together. "Barfing on your shoes? I'm pretty sure getting mostly naked and _in your bed_ makes up for that."

"Although it was nice, I don't think that completely makes up for it. Maybe if you got completely naked," he grins, his usual smirk a little more like a smile.

"Not a chance." I realize the banter is helping distract me, and the shaking has gone down. Though it would still help if he let me go.

"But this is payback for stealing my shirt."

"What? When did I do that?"

"I don't know, I was asleep, but you're wearing it now." I realize with a jolt that what I'm wearing is in fact not my own shirt, but his.

"I didn't realize," I murmur. "I thought it was mine."

"I don't recall giving you permission to put clothes back on either." His patronizing words increase my trembling again, and I glare harder at his chest, still refusing to truly look at him.

"I was cold."

"I was here to warm you up if you wanted it."

"Can't you realize that this is _not helping_?" I hiss, clenching my fists against my chest and trying to control my body.

"Who ever said I was trying to help you?" I jerk back against his arms in a desperate attempt to get away, threatened by his question.

"And you were doing so well," I grit my teeth, struggling in his grasp. He just laughs and holds me tighter.

"I'm not letting you go, so just go to sleep, Amity."

"You think I can sleep like this?"

"If you don't shut up right now I'm making you take off the shirt." His voice is light, but I know he means every word. So I still, the only movement the shake of my body that refuses to listen to my commands. In the dark red numbers glow on the clock, spelling out 3:47. Each of Eric's breaths move my tense body slightly, and I know I'm not going to be able to sleep given how hyper aware of his presence I currently am, but I don't try to pull away. "Good girl."


End file.
